by Roy J. Snell
CHAPTER III THE HIDDEN PITFALL
Not once in all his young life had Johnny Thompson felt so near his endas when he felt himself shooting downward into the unknown heart of theancient Citadel.
That there were cavities, cisterns, secret passages, and air-ventsrunning here and there through that massive pile of stone, he knew wellenough. Some of them he and Curlie, ever hopeful of finding the hiddentreasure, had explored. Some cavities had been prisons, others granaries,and one vastly greater than all others had been a cistern for storingrain water.
"But this one?" His heart stopped beating. What if it were an air shaft,running to the very bottom, a hundred feet below? He dared not think.What if it were indeed a storage place for treasure? What if he landed onpiles of clinking gold? He dared not hope.
At this moment life, the priceless gift, seemed more precious than everbefore. The affair was over in a fraction of a second, yet in that briefspan of time all the bright glory of life in this beautiful worldappeared to flash before him.
Thud! He struck with a sudden force that drove his knees into his chinand set his teeth rattling.
Instantly there was the sound of wild commotion all about him. "Bats!" hetold himself. "Wait till I get out my flashlight. They'll scurry awayfast enough. Only hope the torch is not broken in the fall. Whew! Howglad I am to be alive!"
It was with trembling fingers that he at last drew the small flashlightfrom his pocket.
"If the bulb's broken," he thought as a cold chill set his teethchattering. "Not much fun spending the night down here with these bats."
A little cry of joy escaped his lips as the light flashed on and thebats, as if touched by a magician's wand, vanished from sight.
His joy was short lived. The place he was in was small, not over fifteenfeet from corner to corner. And the walls that towered above him, sometwenty feet, instead of running straight up, slanted in from bottom totop.
"It's as if I had been sitting upon the very tip-top of a twenty footpyramid," he told himself, "and the tip crumbled in, letting me dropinside."
"Wish it was made of paste-board," he told himself, tapping the solidstone wall. "But it's not, and I'm here."
He sat down to think. Here indeed was a predicament. Neither Curlie norDorn knew where he had gone. He would not be able to get out by himself.When he did not return they would search for him. But in that vast pileof brick and stone what chance was there of being found? In its day ithad been the most massive fort in the western hemisphere. Ten thousandtroops had been quartered there. There were hundreds of holes andcaverns, dungeons and passages to be searched.
"And there is the jungle all about," he told himself. "They may think Ihave been kidnapped by natives and may go searching there."
But Johnny was young. What was still better, he had a firm faith in theways of Providence.
"I will hear them walking on the wall," he told himself. "I'll call tothem."
He did hear someone walking on the wall and did call. The result,however, was far different from what he expected.
In the meantime Curlie Carson was returning over a jungle path in thenight. The objects he carried slung over his back would have causedJohnny Thompson to stare in amazement. They were two native drums. Onewas small but the other was an exact duplicate of the one that had wonfor Johnny a sore head and had endangered his life.
"It's all done with the aid of batteries," Curlie repeated to himself ashe passed from a moonlit spot into the shadows. "But the drums will help.They will help a lot." He let forth a low deep chuckle that said volumes.
"Won't Johnny and Dorn be surprised!" He chuckled again.
* * * * * * * *
After stirring uneasily in his blankets, Dorn at last awoke. It was latein the night, he knew, because the moon was hanging low. He put out ahand to the spot where Johnny should have been sleeping. It was empty. Hewas a little startled at this. He was more surprised and disturbed amoment later as a dull tum-tum came to him.
"Native drums," he whispered to himself. Yet he could not be sure.
Oddly enough, the sound appeared to come from within the fort itself, inthe direction of Curlie's improvised laboratory.
As the boy propped himself up for a look at the fort, he fancied hecaught a flash of red light. Yes, there it was again, this time it wasyellow. It appeared to come from a great crack in the wall. This crack,he suddenly recalled, ran a zig-zagging course down the right side ofCurlie's laboratory.
"Strange he'd work so late," he thought.
Then of a sudden, this time louder, more distinct, came the boom of adrum.
He was startled. Recalling Johnny's story of the spying native, hewondered if some wandering tribe of wild natives had taken possession ofCurlie's secret place. He thought of waking Pompee. Then, of a sudden hisheart went cold. What if Pompee too were gone?
A moment of suspense and he was reassured. Pompee's great bulk, sprawledout before the fire, was unmistakable.
"It's all so strange," he told himself, dropping back into his place."I--I almost wish I hadn't come."
Then, like Johnny, he saw in his mind's eye the needy natives, thechildren, bright-eyed boys and girls stricken with sickness from badwater and pining away without hope. Then, because he was very young andeager, his vision returned brighter than before.
"The 'Rope of Gold'," he said aloud. "We will find it, perhapsto-morrow."
A quarter of an hour later Curlie Carson came tiptoeing silently throughthe shadows. He paused for a moment to look down at the sleepers, gavevent to a low whistle of surprise upon seeing that Johnny was gone, thenstood for a moment as if in deep thought.
"Where's Johnny?" asked Dorn, sitting up.
"Don't you know?" Curlie's voice showed surprise.
"No," the boy replied. "He was here. I fell asleep. I woke up. He wasgone. That is all."
"He's all right," said Curlie, dropping to a place beside Dorn anddrawing a blanket about him. "Gone for a walk. Be coming back presently.Anyway, we couldn't find him in the night if we tried."
Realizing the truth of this, Dorn settled back in his place to at lastfall asleep.
* * * * * * * *
In his accidental prison Johnny Thompson found only one task before him,with plenty of time for its execution. This task was that of examiningevery niche and cranny of the enclosure which might lead to a means ofescape.
"What's the use?" he exclaimed at last. "One might, perhaps, climb aperpendicular wall. Jean Val Jean in Victor Hugo's book was credited withthat power. But when the walls slant toward you on every side, whatchance?"
Once more he sat down. And, because he wished to conserve his meagersupply of light, he snapped off the electric torch to sit staring intoutter darkness.
What does one think of when he is at the bottom of a dungeon in a strangeland? Johnny wondered a while about this. That he was not the first onewho had spent hours of solitary darkness in this great fortress he knewwell enough. He was not even the first white man. During the reign ofChristophe more than one daring soldier of fortune sought adventure inHaiti to find a dungeon instead.
With much time on his hands, Johnny thought of many things. He thoughtfirst of the aged Professor and his labor of love for the kindly nativesof the valley.
"I wanted to help." His throat tightened. "The Professor laughed at oursearch. He said there was no 'Rope of Gold'. Perhaps he was right. But itwas a beautiful dream. Besides, he said it would be a fine experience.Well," he sighed, "it _is_ an experience."
For a long time he sat there thinking and the thoughts that came to himwere far from happy ones. Then, into his consciousness there came adisturbance. He scarcely knew its cause. Was it a sound? Was it someslight movement close at hand? His hair appeared to rise as he sat therestraining in a vain effort to sense the thing that crept in upon him.
In an effort to think clearly, he rested his head back against the w
all.Then, like a flash it came to him. Someone was walking up above, yet sosoft were the foot-falls that it was necessary for him to sense the jarof them by placing his head against the wall.
"Can't be Curlie," he told himself. "Nor Dorn."
Because of the sharp cactus that grew among the rocks the boys wore heavysoled, high-topped boots.
"But it's someone," he told himself. "And that someone must help me."
At once two pictures flashed into his mind: one of a strange nativeclinging to a slender rope ladder, peering into Curlie's laboratory; theother of a curious, broad, little white man looking down at him throughthick glasses.
"What if it's the native!" he thought with a shudder. "What if he hascompanions and this is a trap, a pitfall prepared for me?"
He hesitated. The thing seemed absurd. Yet there had always been strangedoings at the Citadel. For ten years after the emperor's death theCitadel had been closely guarded. No one might enter it save with onehand in that of the escorting guard.
Even of late, attempts to explore the walls had been frustrated. A partywith picks and shovels had come here. In the morning their tools hadvanished. A single white man had camped here. Some time later his campwas found deserted and partially destroyed. He had never been seen again.
"Huh!" the boy grunted, shaking himself free from these forebodings. "Hemay have perished by falling into a hole, as I will if I do not make themost of any opportunity to escape."
At that, throwing caution to the wind, he stood on tiptoe and cupping hishands shouted:
"Hello there! Hello! Hello!"
The ancient walls roared back _Hello_.
Almost instantly the jar of footsteps grew more distinct.
"Got me the first time." A thrill of real joy shot through his being.This was followed almost instantly by a great wave of fear. Who waswalking up there at the small hours of the night? What was to come of itall?
The first question was answered immediately. Hearing a stir at the top hethrew on his flashlight to find himself staring into a familiar face, theface of the native who, but a few hours before, had been swinging on therope ladder before Curlie's window.
If any doubt remained in his mind, it was dispelled at once, for withoututtering a word, the native began letting down the rope ladder.
"For all the world as if it had been prepared for this very occasion."Johnny's heart raced. His brow grew hot, then turned icy cold.
"Well," he concluded, "the die is cast. There's nothing now but to climbthe ladder." With that he awaited its coming.